Never Been Tickled
by iAmSongbyrd
Summary: Daryl and Beth before the attack on the funeral home, getting a little closer than the original episode was going to let them. Baddies coming in later chapter. Rated T, but may move to M rating for later chapters. ;-) Enjoy!


Daryl wasn't kidding when he told Beth he'd never slept in a bed this good. It didn't matter that it was a casket. When you're a dirt poor, bastard redneck's son, the best you've got is an army cot or a dirty mattress on the floor, if that.

After their brief time drinking in the moonshine cabin though, he'd never hold her inexperience against her again. She was tough, she'd stuck it out. She'd watched her family get ripped from her, her dad beheaded, their hopeful home at the prison destroyed... Hell, she'd even put up with him on TOP of the zombie apocalypse. You had to be tough to do all that, right? Besides, that wasn't all that had him on top of the world.

They'd been running for weeks since the moonshine cabin, holed up back and forth in that old golfers clubhouse. It had been awful, dank, depressing... Whoever had done all that to those rich people was majorly messed up, and it upset Beth **so** bad... Granted, Daryl felt detached to it. Beth was helping him see some things, appreciate human life more, but he was just so used to seeing the evil in the world, it was hard to see the light; to see goodness. Except in her.

That's why, laying here in this empty casket, he felt more alive than he'd ever felt. There, across from him in the candle light, she sat at the piano playing for him, singing a lonesome love song. He bit at his thumb while he watched and listened. Daryl had thought of her as more of a kid sister the entire time at the prison. She'd been so young and sweet; still was. But he'd not got to see just how strong she was until they got seperated from the group. They'd learned about each other, come to terms with their differences in previous lives, helped keep each other sane. Especially her for him.

That last afternoon at the moonshine cabin, he could've gotten her killed with all the racket he'd made, and then how he'd forcefully held her with the crossbow and tried to make her play target practice; treated her like a stupid child, all because he was angry with himself, and angry with her for being so damned... fortunate. Fortunate enough to have a good father and a good life. And even that pissed him off now, to see it all ripped from her. And now all she had, quite possibly, was... him.

All the same, when he'd cried, opened up to her all that was breaking him down about the prison, she'd stayed there. She'd wrapped her arms around his waist and held him. Beth had kept him together, even if he had almost hurt her. It was then, with her arms around his waist, that he had felt something. Something next to impossible had stirred inside Daryl; something he thought had died with Sophia and Merle. His brother had been a stupid asshole his whole life. He'd done countless mean things to Daryl, nearly got him killed several times. And, in the end, he'd ditched him and left him to the insane devices of his abusive father and detached mother. But when Merle had been there, he had taken the beatings. He had hid Daryl under the bed or sent him into the woods. He had taken Daryl along with him and his friends. And he was the one who had fought alongside him in the apocalypse; gave his life to save him and his comrades. And Sohpia... She had been a scared little girl who couldn't escape the monsters. He'd wanted so bad to be the hero that Carol believed he could be; prove himself capable of good things. That love and care, too, had gotten ripped from him.

And yet, Beth... She was here. There had to be something good in him too, right? Otherwise, why would she stay? And they had it good here in this funeral home. Good vantage point from the roof, strong building structure, a food stash they hadn't expected, and possibly friendly people coming back to this well kept place. They could have allies again, rebuild here. He could take care of her...

So, Daryl closed his eyes and drifted, letting Beth's sweet, sad song carry him away to a happy, dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Daryl...?" he heard someone call, felt a poking at his ribs. Then, nails on bare skin, at his side, tickling him.

He jumped up, thinking a walker was trying to scratch him. But it had tickled, so he'd yelped just a tiny bit. But when he got his eyes open, it was just Beth, staring at him open mouthed.

"You're... ticklish, aren't you Daryl Dixon?" she asked, still staring. But that stare was slowly turning into a cocky smile as she tilted her head sideways.

"What the hell are you talking about Beth?" he asked grumpily, "I don't know what the blazes you talkin about." And he tried to stalk past her into the kitchen.

She crossed her arms and barred his way.

"You haven't ever been tickled?" she asked, giving him a serious look.

He felt a little embarrassed, and angry. She knew what kind of home he'd grown up in. They didn't tickle each other, not even as kids. If their Dad didn't get 'em first, they just beat the shit out of each other.

Beth eased down just a step when she saw his hand scratch at the back of his head, recognizing the slightly hurt look on his face.

"Oh..." she said, thoughtfully, then smiled. "Give me your arm."

His mouth changed to a grimace. What the heck did she want his arm for?

"What the fuck Beth? Why do you want my arm?" he asked, folding his arms protectively against his chest.

Beth just sighed, grabbing his arms and yanking his right one toward her. She yanked just a hair fast though. Daryl lurched forward, not expecting her to force him, and his hand brushed against her chest.

Yet Beth acted like nothing had really happened, even while Daryl felt like he had to be 3 shades of red. She just stepped back, still holding his hand, and let out a nervous breath. Then she pulled up his sleeve.

"Ok..." she said, looking up intently at him, her smile coming back. "Now, the game is, you hold still as long as you can. I'll stop when you can't take it anymore. Ok?"

"You're crazy..." he sighed, "Just get this goofy shit over with."

Beth put her hand up to his arm, watching him, smirking. Daryl went rigid when he realized she was going to touch him. Then, he jerked as her nails drug across the soft skin on the inside of his right elbow. It wasn't what either of them expected.

He thought it was going to hurt, like a game he used to play with his brother and his friends, swapping licks, seeing who could take the most pain. Beth, she thought she'd catch him off guard and make him yelp and squirm from being ticklish. Instead, he didn't move, except to shiver. Then he leaned a little backwards, and '_hmmmmed_'.

Beth stopped.

"I thought you were ticklish...?" she asked, tenatively, "When I poked you to wake you up, you jumped."

He regained himself and slowly withdrew his arm from her hand.

"I thought that was supposed to hurt... But it felt... good." he said, then turned and smiled at her triumphantly. "I won."

Beth giggled at him, albiet a little nervously. He had **liked** it.

"Anyways" she said, smacking him, "Let's eat something. Then we can barricade the rooms upstairs again, where it's safer."

Grabbing his hand, she drug him into the kitchen, where she'd layed out a spread from the unknown friendlies cache.

"He liked that huh..." she sighed to herself. "I liked it too..."

* * *

Getting ready for bed that night, all Beth was thinking about was what Daryl had said and proposed they do. They could stay here and recover their strength, whether the previous refugees came back or not. They could get back on their feet fully and start circling back to look for whoever they could find of their old group. That was what Beth had wanted to do from the beginning, but Daryl had given up in his heart, keeping himself to look detached at the time. But, like he'd confessed...

* * *

"We can go back, try to find them Beth... This place could be home for us til then. And the group that stays here... Well, we'll make it work. We can **do** this." he had said, so very enthused and excited.

And Beth, she had smiled so brightly. She had hoped for the longest that he would believe again in good things; trust that there were good people still out there in the world.

"What changed your mind Daryl?" she had asked, too happy and curious to think.

Where he'd been leaning forward towards her on the table, excited to tell her his plan, he sat back in his chair, an embarrassed flush across his face,

"Aww Beth, you know..." he said.

"No I don't!" she had laughed, "Tell me what changed your mind."

And then he'd just sat there and stared at her, a half happy, half discouraged look on his face while he looked at her.

"Oh..." she'd said.

And then, when neither of them said another word, they'd started cleaning up their dinner mess of canned fruit, diet soda, and pigs feet...

* * *

Now, she was in an upstairs room alone, changing, while he changed in the other. They slept in most of their clothes when they'd been on the run outside. But the past couple of nights, it'd been so warm out, and they'd felt safe enough with all the downstairs doors reinforced and barricaded shut, that they decided to dress down for bed.

Last night, Daryl had gone without a shirt, but he'd been under the covers in one of the caskets he'd dragged upstairs before Beth ever came back in the room. Tonight, she got done a little faster.

Daryl took off his boots, his socks, and his vest. He was just pulling off his shirt when Beth walked in, chattering.

"I feel so funny sleeping in these coffins even if you don't. It kinda feels like I'm a character in one of those crazy vampire movies. Did you ever watch any vampire..." she trailed off, stopping dead in her tracks and talk as she looked up at him from the doorway.

"_Oh_... _Oh my god_ _Daryl_..." she said, breathing in sharply.

His back had been to the door as he disrobed. And there, stretched across his entire back, were the scars.

He'd told Beth about his time growing up; told her about him getting his ass kicked by his dad. But he'd never told her about his scars. He didn't want her to look at him any different than she did now. And with those scars, and his angel and demon tattoo covering the ones on his left shoulder, all he thought she'd see was a disfigured monster. So, he just turned his head and kept his back to her. She'd already seen it; he couldn't make it go away now. He just didn't want to see the horrified look on her face, and her to see the shame in his.

"Get out of here Beth. Lemme put ma shirt back on..." he said quietly.

Not a sound except her breathing was behind him. She didn't leave.

"Beth, I said get out..."

***SMASH***

He whirled around, frantic. Were there walkers breaking in? Instead, he saw Beth.

There had been a little end table by the door, and a small glass vase had sat on it, with a few wilted flowers in it. Now, it was across the room behind him, shattered against the wall. Beth's shoulders were heaving, like she was breathing deeply; anger. And it confused Daryl.

"Beth, I wasn't trying to upset you. I'm sorry. You never shoulda seen that..." he tried to apologize.

Beth jerked her head up in shock.

"**Daryl, don't apologize for that! Don't apologize for what those monsters did to you**!" she said, vehemently.

Daryl was stunned. So was Beth.

She just shook her head, amazed, and smiled wanly at him. "Turn around." she said quietly, walking towards him.

The look she gave him was both comforting (letting him know she didn't think he was a monster), and unbelievable (_**WHY**_ would she want to look again...? is she crazy?). But he turned, all the same.

He felt her small hand with it's tiny finger tips trace the scars along his back. Then the tattoo. And this time, it was reflexive; he leaned back into her hand. The feeling of her fingers 'tickling' (or whatever the hell she called it) along his back felt** so** good... And sometimes he could still the burn and crack of his old man's belt biting into his skin. But not now, not from her touch.

Then he realized what he was doing, and he jerked away from her hands.

"I didn't mean ta do that Beth... You get in bed. It's all fine." he stammered, walking to put out the candles in the center of the room.

Beth grabbed his hand back, pulling towards the back of the room, near the window.

"You really like that don't you? You're ticklish, but you like it...?" she asked.

Daryl just ducked his head and grunted. And it made Beth smile, but so sadly. And Daryl hated to see it.

"Don't look at me like that girl. I ain't needin' nobodys sympathy." he said stubbornly, trying to pull his arm away.

Beth let him go, but walked to the back of the room anyway. There was a pile of extra blankets and pillows there that they'd found in a few other rooms, and Beth had brought them all in thinking they'd make one big pallet to sleep on. That's when Daryl had brought up the seperate coffins and lined them with blankets instead. So, she took a few leftover blankets and laid them on the floor near the candles, sitting down on the little pallet. Then she waved him over.

"Come off it Daryl. You know how I feel about people being mistreated. I'm not trying to pity you, even if you deserve to be pitied. There are just some things that people should always have the chance to experience and have as a child, and you didn't." she told him, speaking softly. Then she looked up at him and waved him over again, a few tears shining plainly in her eyes. "I'd like to try and fix at least one of those things."

Daryl had no idea what she meant, but the last thing he wanted was to see her cry. So, what other choice did he have? He walked to her.

He sat down on the floor next to her, not sure what she was going to do. When he turned to look at her, she was patting her lap. All she was wearing was a thin pair of cotton pants she'd found in the house, and an oversized mens dress shirt. Daryl gulped.

"What the fuck are you wanting me to do Beth...?" he asked, irritably, feeling put on the spot.

Beth giggled at him, tugging on his hand, drying her eyes with her other.

"Just trust me, ok? I'm not going to hurt you." she promised, holding up a two finger, boyscout salute.

Daryl snorted at her joke, then shrugged, laying across her lap, making sure to keep his head layed across his folded arms on the other side of her lap.

That's when he felt her fingernails, gliding across the bumpy, hard planes of his back. It was like heaven. Daryl immediately stilled.

It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. No one had **ever** done anything like this for him. Not even his own mother. His father had beat her too, to where she'd stopped being a mother, and just an empty shell. The only time she showed emotion after she'd had Daryl was cry while his dad beat him. You could hear her, sitting in the other room sobbing. But she never came to rescue him. She'd tried to fight it, supposedly, when Merle was young. But she had been beat down and broken just like they all had by his dad. Then, he realized Beth was talking, breaking his reverie.

"My mother used to do this for me. On Saturdays, when we'd wake up late and sit on the couch to watch the Loony Tunes reruns, I'd pull my shirt sleeve or the back of my shirt tail up and lay across her lap. And she'd let me lay there while she sat with me, and she'd tickle my back the whole time..." she told him.

"Those are some of my favorite memories... From before all this happened." she trailed off.

Her nails continued, steady and wonderfully up and down his back, then across his shoulders, and occasionally up the back of his neck. And it stayed like that for a bit; quiet and content silence.

"Hey Daryl..." she finally said, quiet as a mouse.

"Yeah...?" he asked, hesitant.

'What do the angel and the demon stand for?" she asked, tracing her fingers along the outer edge of the tattoo.

Daryl shrugged in her lap.

"I don't know... For me, it was like there was somethin' evil in meh dad, ya know? My mom, she wasn't that great either, but she never tried ta hurt me. There was good and bad goin' at it in my house. I just figured maybe, one day, I could beat it, ya know?" he explained.

That's when he felt a water drop on his back. Beth was tracing along his scars again, and she was... crying.

"I know we're different Daryl, and we didn't have to be so much. Parents are supposed to protect their kids; take care of them. And we're supposed to show children love and care. You should've had that..." she sobbed.

Daryl sat up slowly, still reluctant to leave the wonderful feeling of those nails, and wrapped his arms around Beth.

"If I were any different, like you goofy yuppie kids, I'd be dead out there somewhere. Just a nasty, rotting smear on the road. I wouldn't be here with you now." he said softly, brushing her hair back from her face, so unsure if that's what she wanted.

Her slightly swollen eyes looked up at him. Her lips too, were a little swollen from being bitten, and her eyes were so big and pretty, staring up at him.

"Do you still think of me as just a kid Daryl...?" she asked, her breath catching in a few little hiccups.

He stared at her dumbly, not getting why she wanted him to answer that particular question.

His confused and anxious look told her everything she needed to know. So, she smiled, leaned forward across his lap, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

His eyes went wide with shock as she pulled away, and he touched his lips tentatively. Their eyes met, and Daryl looked confused.

Beth shook her head and smiled.

"You're a good man, Daryl Dixon. Try to remember that, ok?" she said.

He couldn't help it; he smiled. Then, leaning back towards her slowly, he pulled her chin towards him and kissed her again, sweet and slowly. And when they parted, he smiled again.

"You need some sleep, Princess." he joked, trying to keep his composure; he was** so** nervous.

"Stay here with me...? I don't want to sleep in a coffin tonight. I need to feel... _Alive_." she said, shivering at the thought of sleeping in a tiny tomb.

So he layed there on the blanket, stretched out in front of her, one hand under his head and the other away from her across his chest. She draped her right arm over him and used her free hand to keep tickling across his back. And they layed there like that together, until they started falling asleep. Daryl reached across the candles for his crossbow and moved it next to his head. Then he turned towards Beth, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her against his chest.

"I'll never let anything happen to you Beth..." he promised, "I think I'd rather die than ever lose that Princess smile." he added, joking. And he sighed.

Beth jabbed him in the ribs, but she knew how he meant it. And she was the same. She would do anything for him; anything to keep him safe from whatever other monsters might try to come and steal the rest of his life away.

Together, they feel asleep safe, for the first time since the prison. They were going to be ok. They were going to get through this. Together.


End file.
